I cried today because I thought someone was dead. The person fell of the face of the planet: no longer worked at his place of employment (the front desk person was not helpful); disappeared from social media; did not return my texts for the last week; just gone. You might be saying to yourself, “He blocked you, loser.” But no, he is my trainer, a person who I’ve known for years, a person who changed my life. I have no personal relationship with this guy other than the fact that he is my trainer and my friend. Not a talk-outside-of-work friend, but a friend. We confided in each other. He made me capable of lifting a ridiculous amount of weight. He empowered me. I was stronger physically and mentally because of him. And then, poof. Gone.
So yeah, I cried. He was dead or in jail or on the run. Those were the options. In the middle of all my crying, he texted back that he was fine, “lol.” Asshole.
I’ve been numb, lethargic, and nothing has brought me joy lately. The cry was cathartic, and I felt better after pulling myself together when I got his whatever text. “If you need me, I’ll be …” I do need you, actually, but let’s ignore that I asked.
I was in the Home Depot parking lot crying my eyes out in a hot car. I suppose I should thank him for breaking the thick shell that encased the emotions I haven’t had access to. I stopped going to training sessions for the last few months because work was keeping me late every night. I told him we’d start back when school ended. He was his usual, “Hell yeah, we will gym it up” dumb self. He’s not dumb. I only wrote that because I’m mad at him. So it seems I don’t have a trainer anymore, and I’m down one friend. I have few friends by choice. I have too many sides to me, which means I have too many ways to feel what other people feel when I’m around them. Too many friends exhaust me, but I cherish the few I have. He was one of them, and now he is being an ass. Or maybe he is running from the law.
“lol”
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I am redoing my bedroom. Tomorrow I’m going to paint it a powdery cornflower blue. In a week or so, I’ll be replacing the floors with a dark laminate tiles–you know, the kind that look like hardwood but aren’t.
So much for spending my time prepping for next year. I’m being dramatic. But you know that.
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I had a conversation with Chat GPT a few weeks ago. I asked it to explain a physics concept that I was grappling with. It gave me a long explanation about basic stuff that not only did not answer the question but was wrong. I tried to guide the program to address the problem while correcting it along the way. Each time, it apologized and agreed with the correction. I finally gave up and thanked it for the attempt. It apologized again. Maybe it learned something. Maybe I’m contributing to the demise of humanity by helping to train AI. Who am I kidding, we all are.
I also ask it things like, “Write a mission statement for a mad scientist in the style of Kurt Vonnegut.” I was disappointed in the response. Again, “… in the style of F. Scott Fitzgerald.” Not great. Then James Joyce. And that’s when it occurred to me what it was doing. The voices were void, but the vocabulary was spot on for each. I then asked it to do the same task in the style of Dr. Suess. That response was awful. AI has no imagination, but why on earth would it. Digression–rhetorical questions should be written without a question mark. That is not protocol, but it should be. Back on topic–I asked it to draw a butterfly using keyboard symbols. Here’s what I got:
I’m pretty sure that’s a dog.
All the responses I got after the Dr. Suess request, regardless of the question, were in rhyme.
Interesting.
Next:
write two stanzas of a poem in iambic pentameter about a butterfly interacting with a dog, then draw a picture in keyboard characters conveying that poem.
In fields of green, a butterfly takes flight,
Its wings a kaleidoscope of colors bright.
It dances with the wind, so light and free,
A delicate beauty for all eyes to see.
A playful dog, with wagging tail and zest,
Approaches the butterfly, eager to invest.
With curious eyes, it watches in delight,
As the butterfly flutters, a joyful sight.
That is a cat and a dog. But I appreciate the emojis for clarification.
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Write a haiku about writer’s block.
Blank page, stagnant mind,
Words elude like fleeting mist,
Writer’s block takes hold.
Eh.
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It’s me that is lacking the imagination.
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I noticed that most of my first sentences in the last post were a little dark. I like the idea of writing something akin to The Secret Life of Walter Mitty, but I lean toward suspense. I think that means that Coraline is up my alley. Alice in Wonderland, even. A first sentence and a genre. Progress.
A reflection of my life possibly.
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My posts are close to if not after midnight. This post is for June 5, but it is currently 9 minutes into June 6.
Let’s pretend we are on 2015 laptop time. Computers kept time for crap back then. I kinda liked it.
———–> good night
Another Writer, Another Blog 